


The Phone Call

by TeamFreeWill12



Series: Post I'm No Angel Trauma [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, drinking and dialing is bad mmkay?, drunken phone call, post 9x3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-26
Updated: 2013-10-26
Packaged: 2017-12-30 13:42:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1019305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamFreeWill12/pseuds/TeamFreeWill12
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 9x03. </p><p>Weeks/months after being kicked out of the bunker, Cas gets a call on his cell phone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phone Call

He didn't recognize the number that flashed on his screen. It was unwise of him to even think about answering, not knowing if just answering the call would get it traced.

 

When Dean asked him to leave the bunker _(I hate to do this, Cas),_ he'd given Cas his cell phone, with all the pertinent numbers programmed in it _(Call if you get into trouble, Cas),_ as much cash as he could afford to part with _(You can't keep staying in shelters, Cas)_ , a few changes of clothes _(It's gonna get cold soon, take this coat, Cas)_ , and some food _(You're lookin' scrawny, Cas)_ , all of which was packed in a duffle Dean gave him.

 

He didn't use the phone if he didn't have to, but he kept it charged so that he could look through it when he felt lonely. He'd scroll through the Contacts and pause on certain names, read through Dean's text messages, go through the photos...The first time he'd scrolled through the photos he'd jolted to find a photo of himself, wearing his old trenchcoat, asleep, and another with Sam, neither having been taken recently.

 

It felt like a slight invasion of Dean's privacy, but as he'd been given the phone freely before being kicked out of the bunker by the hunter _(Garth can set you up in a safe house, so call him, Cas)_ , it didn't hurt his newly developed sensitivities one bit. It was a little like being able to read the man's mind, something he hadn't done in a very long time, something he could no longer do.

 

His thumb hovered over the buttons for a moment before accepting the call.

 

“Hello?” He kept his voice as quiet and indistinctive as possible. At first he heard nothing, then he could hear breathing. “Hello?” He waited for the other party to speak. He could hear the breathing still, it was getting louder the longer the call went on.

 

Castiel swallowed, his mouth dry. It was Dean, he could tell. But Cas didn't know why he wasn't saying anything. His heart started to pound. Was something wrong?

 

“Dean?”

 

“C-Cas?”

 

He inhaled sharply through his nose. “Dean. What's wrong? Has something happened?”

 

There was silence. Dean hadn't hung up, Cas could still hear him breathing.

 

“No, Cas, not yet.”

 

His chest hurt. And he was overwhelmed by an unfamiliar emotion he couldn't name.

 

“What does that mean? Dean? What does that mean?”

 

“I don't think I should've called you, Cas. Maybe I should just hang up and we can forget this happened.” His voice was so low and slurred Castiel almost didn't catch what he was saying.

 

“No, don't hang up.” It wasn't a request, but a soft demand. “Are you ok, Dean? Are you injured?”

 

“I'm not hurt, Cas. I'm wasted.”

After Cas popped out of Purgatory, Sam had told Cas that Dean's drinking had calmed down quite a bit, and that even though he was having nightmares, he didn't drink himself into a stupor just to be able to sleep, wasn't carrying around a flask to Irish up his coffee in the mornings anymore.

 

He'd even witnessed it himself. He never commented on it, but he knew.

 

That's how bad he knew it was.

 

“Where are you, Dean? Are you in the bunker? Where's Sam?”

 

Dean totally ignored the first two parts of that question. “Sammy's fine Cas. He really is. But he's mad at me, hasn't spoken to me in weeks.”

 

A frown came to his lips. If this was true, it must be serious.

 

“Why, Dean? What happened?” Castiel was slowly getting familiar with _impatience._ _Worry_ was an old friend. “Dean, are you there?”

 

“I can't tell you, Cas. You'll hate me.”

 

He was quick to assure his friend. “Dean, there is absolutely nothing that could make me hate you.”

 

Dean inhaled shakily. “How can you say that? I kicked you out of the bunker, man and left you alone and hunted. How can you _not_ hate me?”

 

“I trust you,” Cas replied instantly. “And even though it caused me pain when you asked me to leave, I trusted you had a good reason for doing so.”

 

“Cas!” Dean choked out. “I-I thought I did, but now I'm not so sure.”

 

Hope flared in Castiel at the regret he heard in Dean's voice. Regret, recriminations colored his words.

 

“What are you saying, Dean?”

 

“Nothing, Cas. I can't ask you to come back and I can't tell you why I asked you to leave in the first place.”

 

Cas wondered what he could say. If Dean didn't want to tell him, then he wouldn't press it. But he couldn't help but be a little suspicious.

 

“I don't know why I called you, anyway,” Dean muttered lowly, the words all blending into one another. “I can't get you involved in this.”

 

“Involved in what, Dean? You can tell me.”

 

“I'm sorry, Cas.”

 

“Dean—”

 

“I gotta go Cas, I shouldn't have called.”

 

“Dean, wait.”

 

“I miss you, Cas.”

 

“Dean. Dean? Are you there? Dean?” Cas looked at the screen. The call had ended.

 

Fear filled him from head to toe. That emotion he recognized immediately. There was something wrong. Dean had lied to him. _(I do that.)_ There was something he'd done to be ashamed of, something that made Sam angry at his brother, and it didn't seem to be blowing over.

 

He needed to get back to the bunker. Every word that came out of Dean's mouth scared him. There was something wrong and if Dean wasn't going to tell him what it was, he would find out for himself.

 

He was going home.


End file.
